Driving home I try to focus on the road, but my mind won’t seem to cooperate. Tears begin to well up in my eyes as I’m driving down the lonely, deserted street. Staring out the windshield through my tears I can’t help but think the scenery is just how I feel inside, alone and dead. It’s just a normal December night outside, but I can feel it coming for me. The darkness and depression creeping up on me like a monster in the night.
I pull up to my house, put my car in park, and pause for a second. I sit with my hands still on my steering wheel staring down the empty dead-end street, not hearing the radio blasting, breathing in the darkness, and finally accepting the depression that’s coming. Tears are streaming down my face now, smearing the mascara I was wearing. Resting my head on the steering wheel, I allow the tears to stream down my pale cheeks. I can’t get control of all the emotions swirling up inside of me, it seems like all I can do is release them.
My mind wanders from the freakiness of my date, to my dreams, to the psychic encounter, to the weird feelings I’ve been having and back again. I can’t help but feel like this world will never be enough. I will never be truly whole because part of me lives in another realm.
I will never be truly content with this life, I have this overwhelming feeling that I’m waiting for something, something else, something… more.